Cry Differently
by Elliot Grace And Theories
Summary: 'I loved you like a man loves a woman he never touches, only writes to, keeps little photographs of.' Wounded people heal together. Modern AU.
1. Pilot

_**What am I doing? Hmmmm, I have no clue. I've got two stories to update, many stories to prepare for publishing, and this was not on the plan. I just thought of it like, I dunno, twelve minutes ago? I'm the type who won't leave stories as one-shots because I'll usually have the inspiration to keep going , and I'm sure this is one of those stories. So let me know if you guys will like this as a multi-chapter (which will probably happen, let's face it) or just a simple few chapters.**_

_**Disclaimer: I wish I owned. Must try harder.**_

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><p><em><strong>Cry Differently<strong>_

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><p><em><strong>Chapter One<strong>_

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><p><em>I walked across an empty land<br>I knew the pathway like the back of my hand  
>I felt the earth beneath my feet<br>Sat by the river and it made me complete_

_Oh simple thing where have you gone?_  
><em>I'm getting old and I need something to rely on<em>  
><em>So tell me when you're gonna let me in<em>  
><em>I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin<em>

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><p><em>My mother used to say, years before she died, that some things in life come, and then they go. Nothing is permanent. Sometimes, you try hard to keep it, and sometimes, you try even harder to forget it. Some things you should always let go of are things that hurt you. And the things that make you happy, you should try your very best to keep. Love, she said, is one of those things.<em>

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><p>'Good morning,' Hanji chirped, glancing up from the register she was trying to start up.<p>

'Not working again?' I questioned, unwrapping the scarf from around my neck.

'Hmm,' she affirmed, 'it froze up. I've only got ten minutes to get it working before it's time to open up the shop.' Hanji huffed in exasperation, placing her hands on her hips as she waited for the screen to flash to life.

'Just get a new one,' I sat across the counter from her, unzipping my jacket, 'it's a cafe, you can't deal with a faulty register every morning.' I looked around. 'Why didn't you turn on the heater? It's freezing outside.'

Hanji squinted her eyes at the screen, patience slowly seeping out of her. 'It's going to snow this week. That's what the weather forecast said anyway. Not that it's ever right.' Finally giving up on the hope that it would start any time soon, she turned away and reached for the heater control on the wall. With the press of two buttons, the heater flared to life on the ceiling, and I felt a rush of air over her hair, chilly. I shivered.

'A quick flat white, will you?' I grinned at my long time friend. 'Two sugars.'

Hanji rolled her eyes. 'Just come to the back and make it yourself.'

'But it's your coffee shop.'

'But you make better coffee.'

'I'm paying you. And one of those salad sandwiches please. You know I love your sandwiches.' I pointed at the one she wanted through the glass case.

The register screen lit up, coming to life and Petra could see the brand logo flash in the reflection of Hanji's glasses. Hanji grinned, suddenly in a good mood. 'Whatever you want, Picasso.'

Taking a sandwich out of the glass case, she put it on a plate and slid it across the counter, turning to make the coffee as well. 'How's work going?' She asked over her shoulder, her purple strands whipping about her.

'Don't get hair in my coffee,' I warned cheekily. 'It's going well, I guess. It's pretty quiet though. I'm painting the last touches on a law firm in the next neighbourhood today, and once that's done, I'm free. I thought painting and decorating would keep me real busy.'

'Or your just a workaholic,' Hanji chimed.

I frowned. 'No. Painters just aren't as scheduled as I thought they would be when I was a kid.'

Hanji approached with her coffee, putting a spoon dipped in chocolate beside the serviette. 'Why does it matter? Just relax at home in your spare time. A nine til five job isn't bad.'

I scrunched her nose. 'You know I don't like staying at home. Not since mum died, anyway.'

Hanji appeared dismayed. 'Maybe you should move out of that house. You're dad's like a soldier, you don't have to live with him to take care of him, you know. He's always away, isn't he? Just find a nice apartment and move in. Maybe get a cat.' She thought for a moment. 'Or get married.'

I laughed. 'Maybe,' I agreed.

'Just stay in this neighbourhood, okay?' Hanji reprimanded. 'I'll hunt you down if you go far away.'

-X-

Hanji and I had many conversations like that. They followed a similar pattern. It'll be about jobs, and then it'll go onto not keeping busy, and then somehow my mother will become the subject and Hanji will give me a new method of recovery. I didn't need recovery. Not really. It's been seven years since she died and I've stopped mourning long since.

Some things in life come, some things in life go.

It was my papa who didn't know how to let go. He was a prosecutor, and from the moment my mum's murder was announced, he did everything in his power to have the killer jailed. And he did. The defendant's only family, a lone son who was long forgotten tried his best to help his father, but in the end, justice prevailed. As it should.

'How was work today?' Papa asked, watching me clear up the dinner table. 'It was good. Just finished up a firm in the afternoon. It'll open up in a few weeks.' I dumped the dishes in the sink, and set to scraping the leftover food into containers and food bowls. 'Hopefully a new client will come around.'

Papa chuckled. 'Many clients will come. My Petra is a professional.'

I saluted him. 'The very best.'

The skin around his eyes relaxed as Papa's smile dropped. 'Petra,' he said gently.

'Hmm?' I put the container of pasta into the fridge, followed by bowl of salad that I couldn't finish.

'We have a new neighbour. A few streets down.' He eyed me, gaze softening.

'Really? Who is it?'

He cleared his throat. 'You know the old workshop across the convenience store? It's been sold. To a young man. I'm not sure what he's going to do with it but he's been there for a few days now. Been living there.'

I couldn't quite remember which shop he was referring to, but I rarely went that way. 'So who is it? You've never had an interest in our neighbours before.' He paused, looking down at his folded hands on the kitchen island. 'His name is Levi Ackerman. Daniel Ackerman's son.'

I froze, the fridge door slowly closing shut with a piercing creak. 'Oh.'

'I don't want you going near him. I don't know what that bastard is doing here but he will have nothing to do with us. Do you understand? Not so much as an acknowledgement.'

I nodded numbly. 'Of course, Papa.'

He sighed tiredly. 'I'll be in my study if you need me, sweetheart.' Getting to his feet, he ruffled my hair gently and then disappeared into the hall, the conditional click of his study door signalling his self-confinement. Like every other time.

As I washed the dishes, my mind wandered. I thought of the court case from all those years ago. The back of the head of Daniel Ackerman's son that I saw. The dead look on his father's face as he listened to his sentence being announced. I remembered Papa weeping beside me, and my vision blurring as tears fell down my cheeks. The relief. The content. Finally. _Finally_. I don't know what I expected from a defendant's family when they were convicted. Maybe shouts, angry screams. Tears. Maybe even the slouching of the shoulders, the drop of their head as they finally accepted defeat. But Daniel Ackerman's son did none of those things. Through the haze of my own tears, all I could see was the straight posture, the head held high.

A scorching burn on my palm jerked me from my train of thoughts. Turning off the scalding water, I hung the last of the dishes on the dish rack to dry. Blowing on my hand gently, I soothed the pain, but my eyes weren't quite seeing as I tried to recall the memories of the trial.

That night, however, sleep consumed me.

-X-

'Were you saying that you were bored?' Hanji asked over the phone, her voice sounding excited.

'Hmm?' I mumbled, scratching my head and keeping my eyes shut so they sunlight seeping through the window wouldn't burn them through.

'Yesterday. Something about not being busy enough. You were saying that.'

I yawned. 'Yeah, I was. Why?'

'I've got a client for you. Not with your company, but something separate for you to do. How's that, Picasso?' She gave an arrogant laugh. 'I'm such an immaculate friend, don't you think?'

I finally sat up. 'Really? Who?'

'He came into the shop this morning and was looking through the phonebook. I saw him looking up the painting services for his studio. So I told him I have a painter friend who has plenty of time on their hands. He gave me the address. Said to tell you to come down whenever you're ready.'

'What did you say?' I asked, blinking away the last of my sleepiness.

'I said you'd come by today.'

'Today?'

'You don't work weekends. It's Saturday, Petra. Wake up.'

Standing on my wobbly feet, I walked over to my desk, pulling out paper from the drawer. 'Give me his address then. I'll get changed and go straight for it.'

'Will it kill you to say thank you?'

'You're the best, Hanji,' I amended.

'Indeed.'

Quickly writing the address down, I ended the call. 'Bless her soul,' I murmured, throwing off my pyjama top. One glance at the clock said it was almost ten. Papa left for work hours ago. He wouldn't notice my absence for a while.

Preparing my bag full of clothes, I slipped the address into my pocket and left the house.

-X-

'Hello?' I knocked on the wooden door of the shop. Leaning in, I listened for sound, but heard none. Reaching for the handle, I twisted it and to my surprise, it wasn't locked. Pushing it open, I stepped inside, my steps causing creaks to run along the floorboards.

'Hello? Is anyone here?' I called out, looking around cautiously. The place was wreck. The wallpaper was peeling; the shelves and floors were dusty and dirty. The slide door I approached was almost off its hinges when I pulled it open. Carefully setting it back into place, I walked down several steps and looked around.

'Excuse me,' I said loudly. 'I came in for a paint job. I got a call this morning from my friend at the coffee shop. She said you needed a painter?'

'I didn't know it was a woman.'

I almost jumped at the sound of a voice wafting from the corridor to my left. A man appeared at the doorway. He stared at me, expression dull and stoic.

'Did she say it was a man?' I inquired, gripping the strap of my bag.

He turned away. 'I guess not.'

Not knowing what else to do, I followed him. The corridor was no better than the rest of the shop.

'Is this going to be a studio?' I asked.

He didn't reply, leading me into what seemed to be a back courtyard.

'Do you think you can do the job?' He voiced, sounding flat.

'Of course. No job's too hard for a painter.' I said, not wanting to frown in front of a client. He stood in green cargo pants and a fitted blank singlet, hands dusty and white from whatever he was handling before I came in.

'Good to hear. I like results. If that's what you can give me, we'll work well together.' His eyes, a piercing, bright grey, stared at me. 'Did you need to get changed?'

I smiled. 'Yes.'

He gestured to the left, where there was a door ajar. 'You can do it there. I'll be inside.'

He turned to go back the way we came, but I reached out a hand. 'Nice to meet you, I'm Petra Ral,' I introduced myself. He looked at my hand for a second. 'Levi,' he said shortly, and then left.

My smile fell, my hand dropping to my side.

_Levi? _The name resounded in my head.

_I don't want you going near him. Do you understand? Not so much as an acknowledgement_.

Not so much...as an acknowledgement.

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><p><em>Hold onto love, Petra, my mother used to say. To a person, there is no one more precious than the one you love. Because they teach you new things about yourself. Make you want to be a better person. And most importantly, they make you happy. What's life if you're not happy?<em>

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><p><em>I came across a fallen tree<br>I felt the branches of it looking at me  
>Is this the place we used to love?<br>Is this the place that I've been dreaming of?_

_Oh simple thing where have you gone?_  
><em>I'm getting old and I need something to rely on<em>  
><em>So tell me when you're gonna let me in<em>  
><em>I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin<em>

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><p><em><strong>Review and let me know what you think? Please please please?<strong>_

_**Love you guys **_

_**xx**_


	2. Static

_**Disclaimer: Don't own. Must try harder**_

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><p><em><strong>Cry Differently<strong>_

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><p><em><strong>Chapter Two<strong>_

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><p><em>Come up to meet you, tell you I'm sorry<br>You don't know how lovely you are  
>I had to find you, tell you I need you<br>Tell you I'll set you apart_

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><p><em>There was no such thing as first love for me as a teenager. I was a studious student who attended an all-girls school so there was no time to meet boys, experience love and decide what kind of man I wanted exactly. It all came so late for someone like me; I was a late bloomer in every sense of the word. I was twenty six when I had my first love. He was a grumpy thirty year old carpenter who had the attitude of an eighty year old man. Crude, brazen and unashamedly disrespectful, but oh I loved him so. He was everything I knew I did not want but he made me need. There was no man like Levi Ackerman.<em>

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><p>In the small storage room I was directed to, I slowly pulled on my overalls and boots. This wasn't right. Papa told me to stay away from Daniel Ackerman's son the very night before, and here I stood, in the man's storage room preparing to help him paint. How had I become so reckless?<p>

_Just tell him you can't do it, _the voice of reason in my head sounded. But it would be rude and silly, right after accepting his offer. Huffing in frustration, I pulled on my left boot and stepped out of the room, heading across the courtyard to the corridor Levi led me through. Tying my hair into a bun as I walked, I tugged the bandana around my neck to loosen it.

I found Levi in one of the bigger rooms.

_This place is a lot more spacious than it appears to be_, I thought absentmindedly as I watched Levi shift a table to the far corner and drag machinery along the dusty tainted timber floor. His undercut hair fell into his face as he leaned down and picked up a wooden drawer and carried it in the same direction. His face was pulled into a focused scowl and he wiped his forehead with the towel around his neck. He's changed, was my first thought. He looked nothing like the man whose head I'd seen the back of all those years ago. Something twisted in my stomach. I was in the same room as a murderer's son. My _mother's_ murderer's son. I licked my suddenly dry lips.

'Are you going to stand there for the rest of the morning?' His gruff voice broke my concentration.

I cleared my throat quietly. 'Do you have all the materials? Or had you wanted me to bring them? I could go out and buy them now.'

'No need, I've got everything,' he finally turned to look at me, stopping his work. 'I'm assuming you want to discuss payments first.'

It was the last thing on my mind, if I was honest, but it was a good place to start. 'Since you've got your paints and materials, it won't be as expensive,' I leaned against the doorframe. 'Painters normally work in teams but since it's just you and me, it'll take a bit more time. A week at most? This place is pretty big. I'll start in the mornings at nine, and won't dip my brush in the paint after six, no matter how little work is done. I'll take an hour break at lunch and a half hour one later when I need it. How is twenty five an hour?'

He raised a brow. 'You said it won't be as expensive.'

'In teams you'd pay more than that for each painter. It's a good deal.'

I felt comfortable when I talked professionally. It gave me a sense of security to know what I was talking about, to trust in my own capabilities and knowledge. In this moment, here across a man whose fate shouldn't have been crossed any longer with mine, security was what I needed.

Levi nodded. 'I need the floors repainted as well. Do you work by square meter as well? Payment, that is.'

I considered it. The week I would be here would be a good distraction as well as a good way to earn money. My company wouldn't be taking any commission; the cash would go directly into my pocket. 'I won't this time. Just by the hour. Rest assured, though, I'm a good worker. You'll be paying your money's worth.' I grinned, attempting to disperse the stiffness in my shoulders.

He smirked. 'I'll take your word for it.'

Dusting his hands, he moved passed me and I followed. He showed the entire studio, from the main work area at the front, to the corridor that split itself into four rooms, and the small kitchen that was to the left. The floors of the main area were floorboards, which he said he would not paint, but the rest was timber that he wanted to go over. The small courtyard at back was where we would move all the machinery and the little furniture there was. The room out back that was separate from the rest of the studio was also to be painted.

'Is this where you sleep?' I asked, eyeing the makeshift bed that was visible through the clear glass door of the room. 'You don't have another place to stay? It'll get rather dusty and dirty around here.'

'I'll be living and breathing this place when it's up and running. I don't think it's going to matter.'

Back inside, we started from the front. 'Peeling the wallpaper comes first,' I declared, 'the smoother the surface, the less solvent we'll need to use and the better the primer can be applied. Then the paint.'

He didn't respond, simply went to the kitchen to get a rubbish bag to dump the peeled paper into. We set to work. Conveniently placed headphones beside the door were pulled over his ears and Levi was lost to the sound of silence that I found myself confronted by.

With his back to me, I watched him. His muscles flexed beneath his shirt as he worked, and although he was possibly one of the shortest men I'd met that wasn't necessarily taller than me, it was oddly attractive. The floor beneath my feet creaked and I snapped out of my daze.

-X-

By early afternoon the wallpapers were finished and evened out. We continued to work by quietly carrying out the furniture outside into the courtyard, leaving the entire studio bare.

'Are you going to live here alone?' I asked Levi when it was my break time and I was resting against a carton outside.

'Hmm.'

I paused. 'You don't have anyone to live with?'

'No.' He didn't sound fazed, but not entirely pleased at my questioning either. His headphones that he removed while we were carrying things were back over his ears. 'There's coffee and ramen in the kitchen if you're hungry. Biscuits in the cupboard as well.'

He spun around to go back inside, but I called out, 'you're not going to eat?'

The slight turn of his head told me he heard, but he didn't reply, and disappeared. 'I'll make it for you anyway.' Making my way to the kitchen, I rummaged through the cupboards. There wasn't much in them, save a ton of packets of two minute ramen, crackers, biscuits and a coffee jar. 'You don't eat much,' I murmured, opening the refrigerator. There were salad ingredients, milk and a glass container of rice. In the freezer, there were two frozen chickens breasts and meat in freezer bags. I guess he lived off the ramen, then. Papa and I would die if we had a food supply like this.

Turning on the kettle and finding a pot beneath the sink, I dumped two packets of ramen into it. In ten minutes, I had the ramen ready and separated it into two bowls. Placing them with forks on the wooden table that accommodated as a dining table, I poured the coffee into mugs I found in the cupboard.

Listening out for noise, I found Levi in one of the rooms, scraping up the remains of the ripped wallpaper into the rubbish bag. 'Mr Ackerm-' I froze. He didn't show any signs of hearing me through his headphones, and I almost sighed of relief. Approaching him, I tapped lightly on his shoulder.

He glanced at me and pulled the headphones down.

'I made the ramen,' I said, smiling.

He frowned. 'I didn't ask for any.'

I clucked my tongue. 'It would be impolite of me to use your kitchen and not make you lunch. Come on. We can keep working after we eat.'

When I sat down at the table, he took one look at the fork by his plate and picked it up, dumping it back in the cutlery drawer and pulling out a pair of chopsticks from a cup on the shelf above the sink.

'You do it the traditional way, ey?' I observed as he flattened the chopsticks against the table, securing it in his hand.

'My dad was Japanese.' He excused.

I frowned, several rebuttals running through my mind explaining how _false_ hisstatement was. Ready to tell him not to lie so compulsively, I opened my mouth but he glanced up. 'My adoptive father.'

'Oh.' Wiring my jaw shut, I looked down at the ramen. Stabbing the fork into it, I twirled it twice. 'I was going to say you don't look Japanese,' I attempted a grin to cover up the building tension in my neck, tightening my muscles.

'You don't have to play the fool, Miss Ral,' he said.

'What do you-'

'I didn't give you my last name and yet you just called me Mr Ackerman.' He put the chopsticks down, his gray eyes piercing through mine. 'I remember you too, Petra Ral.'

I grimaced. Never once had I seen him look at me all that time ago, let alone notice me enough to recognize me seven years down the track. But I guess, I never saw more than the back of his ebony-haired head.

'But I don't intend on letting that affect this task. It's only a week's worth, I'm sure we'll manage. Personal emotions and feelings shouldn't affect our professionalism. Do you agree?'

I didn't reply, staring at him with an incredulous expression.

'I guess that's settled,' he said, standing up.

'You're incredibly crass,' I said, watching his back as he walked towards the door. He turned his frame slightly. 'I've just made you a meal and the least you could do is eat it. And don't make decisions by yourself. Affect our professionalism? What do you take me for, Mr Ackerman? I've been doing this job for years and if you think I'm immature enough to let a past incident influence my work ethic then you are terribly mistaken. Don't be so recklessly presumptuous.'

He shifted his weight from one foot to another, shoving his hands into his pockets as he stared at me, challenging. 'I merely cleared up some future possible problems before they occur. The last thing I need on my hands is a personal grudge from a new neighbour.'

I frowned. 'How do you know that I live around here?'

He shifted again. 'I heard through the grapevine the Rals live in this neighbourhood a day after I bought this place.'

I snorted. 'Would you have changed your mind if you found out sooner?'

'You can be sure I would have.'

Silence overcame us. I stared at him in amazement at his bluntness and he stared back, expression a cross between a glare and a scowl. 'If you don't want to work with me, Miss Ral, then leave. I,' he said slowly, drawing out each word, 'don't have time for this.'

I licked my lips, hands loose on the table. I shouldn't be offended, I reasoned. He'd done nothing wrong. He did nothing I wouldn't have done.

_You're saying you'd defend a killer? _The voice in my head echoed. If it was my father, wouldn't I? No matter what, no one would believe their parent to be a criminal. But criminals existed and they had to be someone. Someone's sister, someone's cousin, someone's friend_._ Criminals were a somebody to many people. And for this man before me, fixing me with an expression I'd never seen, as though tired and frustrated and purely angry, that somebody was a father. Could I blame him for anything, even for looking at me like I had maddened him?

_You didn't do anything._

And neither did he.

He turned to go again, a foot stepping out of the kitchen by the time I decided to reply. 'At least have the coffee.' And it must have been in my voice, the decision I made, because he paused a moment, head turned slightly. 'I don't have coffee with milk. We'll continue working after you've finished your break.'

-X-

The rest of the day was spent in silence. We applied the solvents to the walls and stripped away the remaining paint. It took several hours on its own just waiting for the solvent to take effect, and another hour to take care of the aftermath. By 5:57, I was exhausted but feeling refreshed, accomplished and still active.

Pulling off my gloves carefully and dropping them into the garbage bag, I unwrapped the bandana from around my neck and huffed. 'That's all for today,' I announced. 'Tomorrow we'll wash down the walls to get rid of any solution, and apply the primer. How's that sound?'

Levi nodded, and despite standing stiff and composed, I knew he was also worn out by the day's activities.

'Can I use your bathroom before I go?' I couldn't help but ask. Not only did I need to wash my hands but use the toilet for only the second time since morning.

'It's just beyond my room, if you go a little further in, you'll find a door.' He was already tying up the bags, ready to take them out to the rubbish bins.

I nodded. 'Thanks.'

Out in the courtyard, it was already getting dark, and I absentmindedly wondered if Papa would wonder where I was. Stepping through the clear glass doors to Levi's room, I only took one look at the bed and makeshift bookshelf before heading down the short hallway and opening the door to the bathroom, as it was conveniently labelled so on the wooden entrance.

Minutes later I exited feeling refreshed and much more comfortable.

'Where was my bag again?' I murmured to myself, and remembered the storage room across the courtyard. But before I could leave the room, something on the bookshelf caught my eye; a voice recorder. Walking over to it, I picked it up, feeling the weight in my hand. Why would he use one of these? My thumb hovered over the power button. I glanced behind me, lest the Ackerman himself was standing behind me, but I was alone, the bare courtyard visible through the glass door.

I bit my lip. Feeling torn between intense curiosity as to why a man would record anything and basic morals outlining respect for other people's privacy, I stood for a moment, contemplating. Finally relenting, I placed it back on the shelf. My momentarily sated curiosity wouldn't be worth the feelings of guilt afterwards, I decided.

After getting changed and tugging on my coat tightly around my body, I found Levi in the kitchen. 'I'll be leaving now,' I said, waiting for a reaction. Maybe a good bye.

He simply 'hnn'ed and left it at that. I decided to not push it further. Baby steps.

'See you tomorrow.'

-X-

That night, when I saw Papa, sitting in the living room watching the news, I felt a different wave of guilt for not listening to him.

'Where've you been, darling?' He inquired, watching my throw off my bag and coat.

'Oh, Hanji called in the morning and said she found me a customer. I'll be painting his place for a few days.'

He frowned. 'You mean not with your company?'

'Yeah. So I get paid by myself,' I grinned. 'Did you make dinner or buy take out?'

'Take out. There's pizza on the kitchen table.'

I kissed his cheek. 'Thank you, Papa.'

He chuckled. 'Feeling affectionate today,' he noted as he watched me walk towards the kitchen.

'Am I?' I asked innocently, 'just feeling a little happy today, is all,' I excused. Putting three pizzas in a plate, I heated them in the microwave.

'It's a good client, then?' Papa called out.

My smile faltered a little. 'Something like that.'

-X-

'Why are you looking at me like that?' Hanji asked.

I stalked over to the stool across the counter. 'Do you know who the client was yesterday?' I asked expectantly.

She thought for a moment. 'Some guy. Maybe early thirties. He was hella short and really grumpy looking.'

I stared at her. 'He didn't even give a name?'

'No, why?' She looked a little bemused, and maybe it was the way I was looking at her that made her realize it wasn't great news and reached for the sandwich in the glass case that she knew I liked.

'Levi Ackerman. That's his name.' I drawled.

I waited for her to react to the name, or rather, the last name. It took several seconds for the realization to dawn on her. 'You're kidding,' she whispered.

'Do I look like I'm kidding.'

She slapped a hand to her forehead. 'What a small world.'

I raised a brow. 'That's all you have to say?'

'Well, you don't look like you rejected his request. You're working with him now, aren't you?'

'How'd you know?'

She gestured at the bag at my feet. 'There's your work clothes in there. Or you're coming to my place for a sleepover at 8 in the morning.'

I held back a laugh and glared at her smart ass attempts at a joke.

'That's it?'

She sighed exasperatedly. 'I'm sorry, then. But I didn't know.'

'I know that.'

'Then that's all there is to it. I'm sorry for your misfortunate circumstances, Miss Petra Ral, but that man is not a criminal. At least, not a convicted one right now. He should be just another customer, right?'

I rested my chin on my hand. 'I guess so. I'm still reeling at the coincidence.'

She nodded. 'How uncanny, ey? Why would he move here?'

I shrugged. 'Who knows? I didn't ask.'

'Are you?'

I blinked. 'Yeah. Yeah, I am. I should.'

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><p><em>I was a fool for thinking I couldn't love a man like Levi Ackerman. A fool for trying so hard not to fall for him. But they say fools rush in where angels fear to tread. And I was the biggest fool.<em>

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><p><em>Tell me you love me, come back and haunt me<br>Oh and I rush to the start  
>Running in circles, chasing our tails<br>Coming back as we are_

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><p>-X-<p>

_**I'm glad you guys liked chapter one : ) It's good to know my stories can be enjoyed. This chapter is a little slow but only for introductory purposes. I don't intend on dragging this story out for very long and I don't have the kind of patience for like 10 chapters of just beating around the bush about characters' feelings, you know? It's just not me. I hope it's a fast paced story, but not zipping through love like it's a joke. We'll see, I guess.**_

_**Of the reviews I received, I thought I'd just quickly answer them here:**_

_**Tanuki2000: To be honest, your review of 'this is good' was incredibly short but incredibly uplifting. It's like, there isn't much to say, except that you approve, and I like that, haha. I feel like it would be something I would say. You're a person of little words, and thank you for your review, which touched me even though its three words, but three words can hold a lot of power indeed ;)**_

_**RainbowSunshine8: One of the best? Really? I'm honoured that you think so from just chapter one, and am very flattered by your compliment. It made me blush.**_

_**Rellimmes: Sometimes the enthusiasm in reviews is enough to make me want to update faster! Which is what happened in this case. You're a darl 3**_

_**ii-Phoenix-ii: You're always leaving reviews on my Rivetra stories and it leaves a smile on my face every time. Thank you : ) And about the quotations, I was taught like that as well, and while I know it is technically grammatically correct, so is just one quotation. I think I first saw it in Harry Potter where JK Rowling just used one quotation mark and it kinda stayed in my head since then cos as a kid I just thought 'the most famous author in the world does it, so it must be ok'. And since then, I've just been too lazy to press the shift button to make it double quotation haha. Sorry if it bothers you, I get like that too sometimes about grammar errors. Not sure if it counts as an error but I can definitely see why it would kinda stick out in writing : )**_

_**Let me know what you guys think of this chapter : )**_

_**xx**_


	3. Heart

_**Disclaimer: Don't own. Must try harder**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Cry Differently<strong>_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Chapter Three<strong>_

* * *

><p><em>My love, leave yourself behind<br>Beat inside me, leave you blind.  
>My love, look what you can do.<br>I am mending, I'll be with you._

* * *

><p><em>Beneath my palm was the litany of erratic, wild heartbeats. It was his when he kissed me. I imagined that every time I touched Levi, looked at him for a second longer, his heart would be like this. Like mine would be. Out of control and loud as thunder.<em>

* * *

><p>Later that morning, I didn't bother knocking on the studio door. It would be open, I knew. Inside was quiet, and I found Levi in the first room in the corridor, staring contemplatively at the bare wall. One hand on hip, his eyes was focussed, as though envisioning.<p>

'What're you staring at?'I asked, dropping my bag on the floor.

He looked up. 'You're here.' He stated. 'We'll get started when you're ready.'

I resisted rolling my eyes, and picked up the bag again and headed to the storage room.

-X-

'Did you want all the rooms green?' I questioned, dipping my go roller into the primer. Raising the stick carefully, I started from the beginning of the main area. 'There were tons of buckets of brown paint in the storage room.'

'It was yellow beforehand, as you saw. It's not the nicest colour to look at.' Levi said, starting from the other corner. He didn't wear his headphones today and I took it as a good sign.

'Hmm,' I agreed. 'Even in good condition, I imagine they would've been kind of...drab.'

He glanced at me, but didn't comment.

'Say,' I said, dipping the roller back into the primer, 'If there's a specific kind of design or drawing you'd like in the rooms, I can do it for you. Actual pictures, or sketches. Whatever you like.'

He paused. 'I don't know what you mean.'

'Well,' I rested the roller against the edge of the bucket, letting the excess solvent drip back in, 'I've done city backdrops on walls before. Or painted the sky. For children's rooms I'm an expert at painting cartoons and all. In this place, if there's a specific feel you want it to have, I can paint it. More than just swipes of green. It can be rooms of murals.'

'I'll...think about it.'

-X-

That night, I called into work and was told my team didn't have any customers for the next week and a half, maybe even more.

'Do you want me to find a team for you to be assigned to?' My boss asked.

'It's alright,' I said lightly. 'I'll come in the week after the next, then.'

'Alright. See you then, Petra.'

-X-

The next day, I took my portfolio to the workshop, but didn't take it out until lunch break. Luring Levi into the kitchen with the promise of black coffee with no sugar or milk, I lifted open the cover.

'These are the murals I've done,' I told him. He examined the first page, a wall of flowers I'd painted some time last year. He turned the page, going through them carefully. 'You,' he said, glancing up, 'did these?'

I nodded. 'They're good, aren't they?' I gestured at the open page, a mural of the world map on a lounge wall. I had taken pride in that one. 'Some of them I did with my team, because they were complex. Like,' I skipped the page to one with violent waves, 'this one. The customer was really specific about the waves being as lively as possible. Something about making him feel like he was always at the beach. But mostly, I was hired by myself.'

He turned the page. It was a mural of a snowy hilltop.

'So...what are you going to actually do with this place?' I asked, curiosity finally taking over.

'I'm a carpenter,' he replied. 'This will be my working studio.'

'Okay,' I said, and gently turned several pages in the portfolio. 'There's a few that match a professional workplace. Like this one,' it was a page of wood. Long, thin trunks, coloured rich brown.

'It's good,' he murmured, and hearing his approval after several days of blatant disregard set my heart fluttering.

'How much does it cost?'

I cleared my throat. 'It depends a lot on expenses. All tools, materials and all. This one would cost about two hundred. The less realistic you want it, the cheaper, because it'll be more a work of art than a platform for landscape.'

Remembering something, I turned the page yet again, this one a page of tall bamboo sticks. 'You said you wanted green walls, right? I can do this for one of the rooms if you'd like. They don't need that much detailing, so this would be cheaper. One hundred and twenty? Around there.'

'Hmm.'

He went through three more pages and then closed the portfolio. 'It's good. I'll have a think about what I would like and let you know.'

I nodded. 'Have your coffee.'

He picked up the mug. 'Thanks.'

-X-

'How'd you learn to paint like that?' I heard the question two days later, spoken from across the room that was closest to the kitchen.

'Pardon?' I turned around, putting the roller into the green paint. 'The portfolio,' Levi elaborated. He had his own roller stick leaning against the wall, posture facing me. 'You're a painter and decorator but you've got the skills of an artist.'

'Oh,' I fought down a blush. 'I went to an art school in high school and university. I defected at the end of my second year though.'

'How come?' I couldn't quite say it was interest that was written over Levi's face, but more curiosity, the less subtle kind that wouldn't be noticeable hadn't he been asking the question in the first place.

'After my mum died,' I said slowly, treading the topic as passively as I could, 'I realized I have to be realistic about my life goals. I'm not going to be a Picasso or anything. I love art but there's not much of a career I can make out of drawing on a canvas. So I chose the next closest thing.'

He studied me, his endless grey eyes piercing through me like bullets. I never felt so oddly vulnerable, standing there explaining why I turned my back on my one and only dream. 'You shouldn't have given up.' Was all he said.

'Everything happens for a reason.' I smiled. 'This way I still get to paint.' Dipping the roller back in, I raised it back to the wall. 'Have you decided on a mural, if you still want one? I'd have to know before we paint the rest of the rooms green. The base would have to be white and it'll be a waste to paint over fresh colour.'

'I did,' he replied, voice wafting through the air. It was dull, his voice was, constantly flat and disinterested. But there was something about it, the texture that made it alluring, fascinating.

'Really? What would you like?'

'Like you said, I do want the bamboo, but I want a few more as well. In the room out in the courtyard I want a heart sketch. Can you do that?'

I paused. 'A heart sketch?'

He nodded. 'An actual heart. If you can detail it, that would be great.'

'A heart. As in,' I put a hand to my chest. 'Here? Valves and everything.'

'Yes,' he replied slowly.

'Okay,' I said awkwardly, taken aback. 'What else?'

'In the first room in the corridor I want a lamp post.'

I nodded. 'Sounds good. I'll buy the materials this week.'

-X-

Later that evening, before I left he showed me on his laptop what mural ideas he had in mind, physically. The heart was simple looking, not realistic enough to disturb those who saw it, but artistic enough to allow appreciation for whatever metaphor he had in mind. The lamp post was the most realistic one he wanted, three dimensional and lighted. The bamboos were what I showed him on the weekend.

'Sounds good,' I said, hanging my bag over my shoulder, standing tall to outweigh of the clothes inside. 'I saw white paint in the storage as well. We'll paint the walls of the murals white and have that as the backdrop. The rest will be easy.'

He nodded. 'See you tomorrow.'

It was the first departure he vocally acknowledged, the first one in which he said anything at all, and I had to suppress my grin until the walk home.

-X-

'What is this?' Levi questioned, staring at the plastic bags I had with me.

'Food,' I announced. 'Because I'd like to extend my lunch diet to more than ramen. Look forward to it.' I put the containers in the fridge and joined Levi for work as we set to paint the third room.

By lunch, I was skipping to the kitchen to eat the meal I brought. 'You'll love it,' I told him as he sat at the dining table. Taking the food out of the fridge, I heated them in the microwave. Rummaging through the cupboards some more led me to the discovery of plates, and I set them on the counter.

By the time I had everything heated and on the table, I was smiling proudly. 'Here's your chopsticks.' I put it beside his plate. 'There's rice, chicken stir fry, egg salad and cake. I got the cake from Hanji's cafe on the way here. I thought I'd help encourage your sweet tooth.'

He stared at me incredulously. 'You made all this?'

'I don't mean to brag but I'm a great cook.' I winked teasingly in attempt to draw out a smile from him, but to no avail. He stared, stunned.

'How long has it been since you've had a good meal?' I asked, spooning the rice.

'A while,' he muttered.

'I figured. Maybe we should cook that chicken breast in your freezer tomorrow. Breaks are long enough.'

He didn't reply, putting the first chopstick full of stir fry into his mouth. He chewed slowly, and his expression was too flat for me to understand what he thought. He didn't spit it out, though, and I guess that was enough.

'You said you have an adoptive father. He was Japanese.' I started the conversation. We'd been in each other's company for several days on end now, and I decided it was enough to begin casual talks. 'But you're surname's still Ackerman. How does that work?'

'I was abandoned at his doorstep when I was two weeks old,' he replied emotionlessly. 'In a basket and nothing but a note saying my name was Levi Ackerman.'

I froze slightly, hand wavering over my rice. 'Is that so? Couldn't your adoptive father find your parents easily since your last name was stated?'

'He did. He found out my mother died giving birth to me, and I was only given my name because she asked my father to. And then he left me at a man's doorstep because he couldn't bear responsibility. My adoptive father,' he spoke the word with underlying affection, almost nonexistent, 'was a good man. He took me in but kept my name. So I always had a real identity. Knew what blood I was from. Not that it was much fucking good.' It was the first curse I'd heard him utter, and it was startling.

'Don't say that,' I murmured. 'Your mother might have been a good woman.'

'A woman who married a criminal, bent to his every will. He told me so,' he slowed his speech, as though recalling a memory.

I cleared my throat. 'Then how did you find your real dad? You're the one hired a lawyer for him.'

'My adoptive father died of illness eight years ago. The last thing he told me to do was to find my real father and help him sort out his life. Be good to him like he was the one who brought me up.' He glanced up at me. 'So I found him. Daniel Ackerman. Turns out I found him right after he murdered someone.'

I swallowed a lump in my throat, shoving a spoon of stir fry in my mouth to mask the action. Silence overcame us, and I slowly chewed and he stared at his plate.

'Did you...think he was innocent?'

He shook his head. 'I had to think that. If the family doesn't believe it, who will?'

I thought a moment, carefully choosing my words. 'I saw you at the final trial, you know. Everyone reacted so heavily to the sentence, but you did nothing. I thought it was because you knew it was coming and accepted it, but now that I met you, it just seems to be your character.'

He smirked. 'I knew it was coming. The moment the judge passed the verdict, I was relieved. That man may be my biological father, a man who didn't think twice before abandoning me at a stranger's doormat, but he was a criminal. The justice system works because you can't always think about how people will be affected. Sometimes you just have to do what is right. That man deserves his sentence.'

I was at a loss for words, completely thrown off by his statement. I'd like to think I would've fought for Papa should he have ever been charged guilty, given my all to make sure he escaped prison even if he was truly the criminal. But this man didn't believe in things like that. Blood loyalty, it seems, didn't exist in his book. 'I guess so.'

The rest of the working day was spent in silence, but a different kind from the ones before. A comfortable kind. There was mutual understanding between us, no words needed when we reached for a tool in the hand of the other person, none needed when asking for the other to nudge over. To stop hogging the paint.

By six p.m., the four rooms were done, and all that was needed to be painted was the main area up front, the corridor, and Levi's room out back. Easy work.

'I'll be a bit late tomorrow,' I told him when I found him after getting changed. 'I'll buy the paint for the murals so I won't be here until about noon.'

He nodded. 'I'll give the money for it now.' He disappeared for a few moments to the courtyard, reappearing with an envelope in hand. 'It should be enough.' He reached it out to me but I hesitated to take it.

'Why don't you come with me?' I asked.

He stared.

'It'll be your murals, so you'll pick out the colours you want.' I continued hurriedly. 'And,' I managed a sheepish grin, 'I don't have a car.' I had noticed the blue pick-up truck parked at the front and seen it long enough to know it was Levi's and not a neighbouring shop's. 'What do you say?'

He nodded after a moment. 'No problem.'

'Great. I'll meet you here at the same time then? We'll leave straight away.'

'Sounds like a plan.'

I smiled. 'Well, um, see you tomorrow, Levi.'

* * *

><p><em>The colour of his eyes, the kind of grey you'd find in the sky on a gloomy day, became my favourite colour. I saw it in my dreams almost every night, and knew that it would be a shade I'd never forget. If I never saw Levi again, thirty, forty years later I'd forget his face, his features, the baritone of his voice and the line of his shoulders. But his eyes would stay with me like a secret. A secret I'd take to the grave.<em>

* * *

><p><em>You took my hand, added a plan,<br>You gave me your heart.  
>I asked you to dance with me.<br>You loved honestly,  
>Gave what you could release.<br>Ah oh._

* * *

><p><em><strong>I love you all and you all make me smile :*<strong>_

_**Let me know what you think **_

_**xx**_


	4. Sceptic

_**It's been so long guys, and I swear it was out of my hands. I'm just so glad I've finally been able to come around to this. **_

_**Disclaimer: Me no own. Must try harder**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Cry Differently<strong>_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Chapter 4<strong>_

* * *

><p><em>Excuse me for a while<br>While I'm wide-eyed  
>And I'm so down caught in the middle<br>I've excused you for a while  
>While I'm wide-eyed<br>And I'm so down caught in the middle_

* * *

><p><em>Don't forget what you love. Don't forget what you know. Don't forget what you believe. Don't forget how you love, how you know and how you believe. Once you do, you lose sight of who you are, and suddenly the future is as bleak as the winter stormy sky.<em>

* * *

><p>The drive to the nearest Masters was quiet and discomforting, as though the baby steps we had taken in the past week seemed to have disappeared, and I shifted twice every three minutes, unable to feel comfortable enough in his presence. It didn't seem to have an effect on Levi, as he drove in silence, but he must have noticed my uneasiness because he reached over and turned on the CD player. It flared to life. After a few minutes, I relaxed and let myself go as a track of Backstreet Boys began from the chorus.<p>

Once we reached Masters, we picked up a trolley at the front and began at the aisles, dumping in everything we need from the paint and the utensils needed. I insisted on paying for the paint brushes myself as I usually used the company's but always needed to buy a set of my own in case.

'What shade were you looking for, for the heart?' I asked him, examining the set of paint shades. The burgundy and milk coffee brown were catching my eye. It would suit the backdrop of his room. He chose the brown and I inwardly applauded him.

'And I'm assuming you want the lamp post just black? More two dimensional against the green wall, right?'

'That's right. I've got the black paint at the studio, so we don't need it.'

'Right.'

When it came down to the bamboo, Levi insisted that he wanted the same green as the rest of the studio, and we settled for a white backdrop and the bamboo over it.

When we were in the brush aisle again, in case I forgot anything, I carefully ran my hands over the different types of brushes. My mind spun through the thickness that the murals would need, and I settled for four brushes, all varying in size and all handheld. I dropped them in the trolley, and just as I was about to push it, another brush caught my eye.

'Just a minute,' I murmured to Levi, reaching over for the packaging. It was more expensive but the strands of it were fine looking and of great quality.

'Maybe I should get this one,' I wondered aloud, but before I could turn to Levi, I heard him breathe in sharply and his hand closed around my forearm, violently pulling me towards him and several steps back as a _crash _went behind me. I stumbled into his chest, heart rapidly beating as my ears rung from the sound.

'What was that?' I breathed, balancing myself. His hands firmly held my arms, helping me keep stability as I pulled back and looked into his eyes. There was a slight frenzy in his orbs, as though he had dodged a terrible accident, and it set my blood thrumming. Clearing my throat, I stepped back and turned. A large bucket of yellow paint was splattered on the floor, and my foot squelched into a puddle of yellow. I glanced up to the top shelf.

'Must have been unbalanced up there. The weight was too much,' Levi stated.

My throat went dry at the idea of a 10kg bucket of paint falling onto me, probably onto my head and into my life.

'Thanks,' I said gratefully, spinning to Levi. 'That could have been disastrous.'

He didn't have time to reply as two Masters workers rounded the corner, no doubt attracted by the loud commotion. 'Are you alright?' One questioned, rushing forward. The other picked up the bucket before more paint could spill out, despite the huge content that now without doubt permanently stained their floors.

'We're okay,' I assured, looking Levi up and down. He had paint on his pants and the hem of his sweatshirt. I glanced down to notice the sticky mess that was my attire, now an array of gold jeans and starburst jumper.

'We're so sorry,' the worker apologized profusely.

-X-

Sorry they were, as we got immediate discounts on the paint. What before would have cost us several hundred dollars cut down to hundred and seventy, my brushes included. It was an accident for the better it seemed.

In the car ride back to the studio, there was a different kind of awkwardness. The look in Levi's eyes replayed in my mind, the frantic fright that I'd never seen before in a person as aloof and collected as he. The possibilities of what could have happened were disturbing, and I figured that was what shook him the most. A split second decision, a moment's reflex could define any person's situation, and mine was stopping again to look at that last minute brush I didn't end up buying. Levi's was saving me before he could even register what was going to happen.

My mind dwelled into things I hadn't thought of since adolescence, the time where I mostly thought of life and the philosophy of it all. It was a nostalgic moment, that car ride was. A twenty minutes spent in deep contemplation about the importance of decisions and the sporadic appearances of coincidences, with a little Back Street Boys in the background.

-X-

'I'll start with the lamp post, since that one is the simplest,' I announced once we unloaded the materials from the pick-up truck. He nodded. 'However you are comfortable.' It was a huge jump from the 'whatever' or 'as long as you do it good' from a few days ago.

I set to work. Pulling on the overalls I had packed in my bag (noting to throw out my paint-stained jeans and jumper when I got home), I held the printed paper of the example lamppost in front of me. Thick at the bottom, and thinning out towards the top. About two meters tall, nearly reaching the ceiling of the room. Tying my hair back, I began.

-X-

In twenty minutes, I was finished. I moved onto the bamboo. It took four hours.

-X-

'I'm done. Just done,' I wiped my forehead and put the newly-washed brush down. 'It's almost seven thirty and I've got to go home. It's been an exhausting day. I'll do the heart tomorrow where it'll take up all day, most likely. That alright with you?'

Levi was staring at the bamboo mural, eyes fixed on the wall. I wondered what he thought, but he didn't seem ready to comment. Without a word, I went to get changed and returned feeling less fresh than I did any other day I left this place.

'I'll leave the brushes here so it's easier to return straight to the job in the morning,' I paused, my eyes wondering to the room with the bamboo mural. 'Is it to your liking?'

'It is,' Levi affirmed. It lightened the pressure. Grinning, I saluted him mockingly. 'I'm honoured to have your approval, Captain,' I joked. He didn't smile, but amusement played in his eyes, like flames licking the air in a dark night.

'I'll see you tomorrow.'

-X-

'You've really dedicated yourself to this recent client of yours,' my dad mused that night. He sat on the sofa I lay opposite to, and I glanced up from the television to look at him.

'How so?'

He shrugged easily, as though trying not to make anything serious of the conversation. 'Paint on your clothes you always keep clean, coming late, leaving early. I've never seen you work so diligently.'

I snorted a laugh. 'I've always been a diligent worker, Papa.'

'I guess you have. What's the client's name?'

My good mood instantly soured, and I eased back into the sofa pillow. 'Client confidentiality, Papa.'

It was his turn to laugh. 'I see.' He didn't push it further.

I prayed it wouldn't come up again.

-X-

'He must be a sentimental fella,' Hanji noted, sliding my coffee across the counter.

'Have you seen the guy, Hanji? I've never met anyone so detached.' I stirred the sugar into the cup.

'Who else gets a heart painting on their bedroom wall? Not even a love heart, but a _heart_, flesh and veins and all.'

I insisted, 'it's a mural. Not a painting.'

'Whatever, Picasso.'

I huffed. 'He's just got peculiar tastes. Or uncommon ones. Doesn't make him sentimental. From what I heard he's got nothing.' _His adoptive father was all he had_, I thought, momentarily distracted.

'And where'd you hear that?' Hanji inquired, looking sceptical.

'He told me. No parents, no siblings, no family at all. Lived by himself for almost a decade.'

'He must be quite talkative too.' She nodded gravely.

I opened my mouth to snap at her, but wired it shut, refusing to patronize her any further.

-X-

* * *

><p><strong>Levi<strong>

* * *

><p>-X-<p>

The murals were fantastic. Beyond anything I had ever seen been done by nothing but a hand and a brush. She had shown her portfolios days earlier, but it didn't quite hit me what a talented artist she was until she left and I sat across the bamboo mural for several hours, studying the intricate designs of every leaf, every thin trunk.

That night, I picked up the tape recorder, sat against the bed post and pressed record.

'I've realized lots of things today,' I murmured, leaning my head back. 'Art's got a lot more meaning than I thought. Some dreams are meant to be pursued, but are abandoned instead. My new favourite colour is the mixture of golden honey and bright ginger. It's a stunning contrast, isn't it?'

I sighed, closing my eyes and letting the exhaustion of the day wash over my mind. 'But those colours aren't found everywhere together. How much longer will I see it? No more than three days?'

Something shifted outside my room, and my eyes snapped open to the courtyard, but it was only a neighbourhood cat playing with a laundry peg on the floor.

'It makes you wonder,' I muttered, watching the cat enthusiastically paw at the peg, 'if three days is enough.'

-X-

'You painted it already,' Petra exclaimed, stunned.

'I figured I'd make your job a little easier,' I replied.

I had emptied my room of all the furniture the night before, and began painting the backdrop. It took only a little more than an hour, as the room was rather small and the bed and bookshelf would cover up what little mistakes or slushy brushes I made. Dragging the bed into the corridor outside the kitchen, I slept only for an hour or so before dawn before taking it all out into the courtyard.

'This way you can just focus on the mural. No other duties, per say.'

She turned to me, honey gold eyes lightening with appreciation. 'I'm glad that you're really into the whole mural idea. I didn't think you'd buy into it so easily,' she admitted.

'It's hard not to when you've hired such talent.'

Mildly surprised, she turned away. 'Flattery won't lessen the fee,' she said.

An ice breaker was needed every morning, it seemed. It worked well.

-X-

At lunch, she brought bean salad, rice and vegetable soup.

'Not the most colourful lunch,' she said, 'but I was knocked out cold from yesterday's entire running around and all.'

'And yet you had time to make all of this,' I said, tone flat.

'Well, rice and salad don't take long. But my dad made the soup from scratch. His own favourite soup,' she humoured.

I hesitated before picking up my spoon. Who would've thought? Peter Ral would die by his own hands before knowingly feeding me a meal. I didn't voice my thoughts as I watched Petra dig in, humming in approval to her own rice.

Modesty wasn't one of her key traits, for sure.

She let her hair out when we ate. I figured it was due to some headache she seemed to get when she tied it up for long periods of time. I felt disgusted when I saw women eat with their hair down. Their long tendrils dipped into the food without them realizing, and no matter that it was their own; hair in food was hair in _food._ But Petra's hair was nowhere near long enough to touch the bean salad and her precious rice, so I excused it from my mind.

'How do you find the heart, so far?' She asked through a mouthful of rice. My gaze lingered on the stray grain on the corner of her lip before I met her eyes.

'It's looking good. I doubt you'll disappoint in the end.'

'And the other murals?'

'Don't fish for compliments, Ral.'

She rolled her eyes. When I looked back at her lips, the grain was gone.

'I'm only asking if you're happy with it. Can't leave a client unsatisfied now, can I?'

'I'm satisfied.' I disclosed.

It had her beaming, and the gleam in her eye seemed to give depth to her coloured eyes. Like dipping a hand into a bucket of golden metallic paint.

-X-

'I have to take a picture of this,' Petra declared, whipping out her phone to take a photo of the newly finished mural. I stared at it, and down at the example mural she had used as a guide. Almost identical, if not for the difference in shading and colour. It was more alluring in reality than it ever could be in a printed out copy paper.

'To be added to my portfolio,' she grinned at me. 'Thanks for enhancing my credibility for this. I'll take pictures of the others too.' She disappeared out into the courtyard and into the studio, the footsteps of her boots leaving heavy _thuds _on the ground. I drank in the mural, the most miniscule details I planned to study in depth, most likely at night when I couldn't find sleep, or sleep couldn't find me.

Ten minutes and several pictures later, Petra was changed out of her overalls, hair down and framing her face. 'I'm off,' she said, sparing a glance at her wristwatch. 'Leaving early for once.'

I nodded.

'I'll see you tomorrow.'

After she left, I went into the kitchen and poured myself a glass of juice. But before I could lift it to drink, I heard the front door open. My brows furrowed. Petra must have returned. Placing the glass back on the counter. I usually locked the door soon after she left, but thirst came first.

'Did you forget something?' I called out, walking out into the corridor until the front of the studio. But Petra was not there.

I cursed inwardly.

Peter Ral was staring at me in disbelief and surprise. And anger.

* * *

><p><em>Before him, there was no secret I held from my father. He knew everything there was to know. My confidante, my friend, my dad. But there is a first for everything. Levi Ackerman was part of the many firsts for my father and I.<em>

* * *

><p><em>Excuse me for a while,<br>Turn a blind eye  
>With a stare caught right in the middle<br>Have you wondered for a while  
>I have a feeling deep down<br>You're caught in the middle?_

* * *

><p><em><strong>I made it in time for a Valentine's Day update <strong>__** Yayayay. It's been so long, and I've had so much keeping me from this story but I've finally gotten this out. The next update should (hopefully) be out in two weeks, at most. **_

_**And I've finally done it from Levi's point of view. What do you make of it? Good or nah? **_

_**Let me know what you think **_

_**xx**_


	5. Epiphany

_**Disclaimer: Me no own. Must try harder**_

_**Cry Differently**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Chapter 5<strong>_

* * *

><p><em>And I don't want the world to see me<br>'Cause I don't think that they'd understand  
>When everything's made to be broken<br>I just want you to know who I am_

* * *

><p>'<em>I loved you like a man loves a woman he never touches, only writes to, keeps little photographs of.' Love was but a memory, and Levi knew it all too well.<em>

* * *

><p><strong>LEVI<strong>

* * *

><p>I sat across from Peter Ral on the dining table, taking in the full force of his glare. Knowing he would reject offer of any coffee, water or tea, I did not offer.<p>

'Why was my daughter here?' He questioned, voice masking the evident rage on his face.

'I've hired her to paint for me.' I replied, simply.

'You hired her knowing that your family is responsible for her mother's death?'

My jaw tightened. 'Petra nor I have anything to do with what happened to her mother. I have done nothing to her.'

Mr Ral's face contorted. 'Have you no shame?'

'I have nothing to be ashamed of,' I snapped. 'There isn't one bad deed I've committed against your family.' I was not a compassionate person. I held no sympathy for others, and didn't tolerate self-pity. Not even towards a man whose wife died because of someone related to me through nothing but blood.

'Does Petra know who you are?' Mr Ral demanded, hand slamming against the table. My fingers curled instinctively. 'No.'

'Do you think my daughter would not recognise the name Ackerman, boy?'

'She calls me Levi Schmidt. I didn't give her my name,' the lies poured from me like a water jug into a glass. The anger in his expression lessened slightly, perhaps influenced by the idea that Petra didn't know who her client was. Had he warned her about me?

'Let me tell you this,' Mr Ral drawled, 'if I see you near my daughter again, I will snap your neck. I'm aware that you are in a business transaction but that is terminated the moment she sets foot in her again.' He stood, scowling down at me. He was a tall man after all. 'I forbid her from working with you, and if I see her near this workshop again, you can be sure that there will be consequences.'

Without another word, he turned to leave. It was until I heard the door shut after him that I realized how rigid my posture was. Loosening my tightened fingers, I inhaled shakily, rage bleeding into all my emotions. I had no reason to listen to him. I had done nothing wrong. Petra was doing nothing wrong. And yet, Daniel's words rang in my ears. _You are and always will be my son. Nothing can change that._

I thought of Petra, the untamed excitement and life forever dancing in her eyes, expressed and reflected with every stroke of her brush. The slight poke of her tongue when in concentration and the fond affection I recognised whenever she glanced in my direction.

-X-

'You'll be excited to see what I've got today,' Petra declared, walking passed me to the kitchen with her hands full with plastic bags. I followed her, watching her take out the food containers and place them in the fridge. 'I went to Hanji's place last night, and we just decided to start cooking and all this delicious stuff was the product. You'll be amazed at our skills, I'm telling you.' She grinned, the fridge door closing shut at the push of her hand.

My hand tightened around the envelope in my pocket, the paper crinkling under my fingers.

'Why are you dressed like that? You look like you just rolled out of bed.' She clicked her tongue. 'I thought you were an early bird.' I had a talent. Or at least, I called it a talent. It was the ability to determine between emotion and necessity in any situation. The ability to switch off all feelings, to cut the influence of my heart over my actions. It was simple enough to do, and I never felt guilt or remorse for it afterwards. This moment had to be one of those. Her words barely registered as I pulled the envelope out and extended it towards her. 'This is for you,' I said.

Bemused, she took it from me. Turning it around, she found no writing on it. 'What is it?' Unfolding the flap, she paused when she noticed what was inside. 'I think you're confusing the days,' she said, closing the flap and reaching it out towards me. 'I'm not finishing here for another two days. Payment is always at the end.'

I pushed her hand away. 'You're finished here today.'

She furrowed her brows. 'I don't understand. There's still finishing touches to be done.'

'I don't need you anymore. I'm satisfied with what you've done. Don't worry, the pay for the next two days is in there too.'

She stared at me, expression caught between offense and anger. 'Did I do something to offend you?' She asked.

'No.'

'So you're just sending me away like that.'

'Is it so hard to understand?'

'Yes!' she burst, arms thrown out in exasperation. 'I don't leave work half complete. We have an agreement and I'm not going to leave without finishing what I've started.'

'You've done a good enough job. I'd like you to leave.'

I didn't miss the hurt and betrayal in her eyes as her arms fell beside her, one hand still clutching the envelope. There was a moment of silence, and I refused to look away from her eyes in case she realized my reluctance. The honey gold orbs were deep, deeper than usual, and with her lips slightly, apart, she looked beautiful.

Without warning, she shoved the envelope into my chest, picked up her bag and stormed passed me. The sound of the door slamming stayed with me for the rest of the day, even as I distracted myself with putting the machinery into the studio, even as I sat across her murals and watched them for hours on end, and even as I silently ate the food she left in the fridge. It tasted delicious, as she said it would. And even though she said she made it with Hanji, I imagined there was a special _Petra _ingredient added to it, one that triggered emotions that would yearn for presence.

I never felt guilt or remorse once I cut off my feelings, but I knew that there was a first for everything, and Petra Ral, sweet mother-less Petra, was my first for many things.

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><p><strong>PETRA<strong>

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><p>I was left with nothing to do for the rest of the weekend. It gave me time to wallow in my boredom and exasperated state of mind. But boredom aside, it allowed me to think of Levi. The hardness in his eyes, the swift yet threatening movement of his limbs. The strength in his arms that held me that day. And the coldness in his voice when he told me he no longer needed me. It had happened before, a client dismissing me off work before the finished day. But it wasn't because they thought I was necessarily a bad worker, just a really great painter who could finish what she started faster than others. It was a compliment, and yet, Levi's dismissal felt like anything but. I wasn't one for self-pity but I couldn't help it as the days passed.<p>

'I'm finished early,' I told my dad the first night glumly. 'My client didn't want me working anymore.'

'What is one client, Petra? You'll have plenty more.' He dismissed my words as easily as Levi had dismissed me like a cheap amateur painter. It set my blood boiling, so I locked myself in my art room and took out my canvases, preparing the paints and pastels to draw and express my rage. By the end of the night, my piece was halfway done, and although I had the enthusiasm to keep going, I had no energy.

I didn't want to be around people, so I didn't call Hanji for a coffee date, and the company didn't call me in for work. The days were extended and long, which I guess was a side effect of boredom, and it well and truly wore me out. I spent the weekend across my canvas, hands stained and colourful, smudges of pastel down my cheeks. By my third artwork of rage, I decided I would draw Levi like the devil he was.

It took me all day, as pastels were harder to work with than paint. I defined his cheeks, the angry lines below his eyes, his tense jaw and rigid shoulders. His hair was undercut but messy, and the backdrop was a deep grey to accentuate the frightening aura he put off. But by the end of the day, all I drew was a real, raw and beautifully handsome Levi Ackerman. I was mad with myself. Had he always been so good looking?

-X-

Hanji managed to pull me out of the house by Monday, insisting she got Erd, her good friend and a worker, to take care of the coffee shop.

'So he just kicked you out like that?' she questioned as we took a drive to the seaside.

I nodded, numb.

She scoffed. 'Insignificant cunt.'

'Am I ugly?' I asked miserably.

Hanji shot me a side glance. 'You _like _him?' she exclaimed, astonished. 'I thought it was because he didn't pay you.'

'He did.' I murmured.

'He _paid _you? Then what's the problem, Petra?'

I wasn't sure myself. I felt miserable and bored and rejected but I didn't know why. The stupid face of Levi Ackerman floated through my mind, followed by the handsome pastel drawing I made of him, and it made me groan, hitting my head against the window.

'I don't mean to be judgemental,' Hanji began, 'but he's got the scariest scowl I've ever seen. I don't think he's ever smiled in his life and yet you fancy him?' The car sped up. 'Does that even make sense to you?!'

'Why are you screaming?!' I shouted madly, anger raging out of nowhere.

Hanji groaned in exasperation, slowing the car down a little. 'You've barely known him for three weeks,' she muttered to herself, scoffing once more. We didn't say another word until we reached the beach.

Finding a food cart nearby, we bought some hot dogs and sat on the sand, eating it in silence as we watched the waves hit the shore and retract back into the ocean. For some reason, it reminded me of Levi even more, like the tease he was. Giving and then deciding against it halfway. Two steps forward, one step back, like the rips that swallowed the washed ashore seaweed and dragged them back into the water, wetting the sand a little more every time it returned.

'James was nicer,' Hanji commented, biting into her hotdog.

'You mean the guy I dated because he said he liked me, and then dumped me a month later?' I munched, 'good times.'

'You were just starting to like him back too,' she reminisced.

It wasn't helping. I remained quiet.

'Levi comes to the cafe every now and then, and I kid you not that every single woman in his presence makes a point of flirting with him. It must be a bad boy thing.' Hanji said.

An emotion akin to jealousy surged through me, and I wired my jaw shut.

'He can't even hold a proper conversation but is sought out everywhere. I heard he got accepted into Harvard for business but dropped out because he decided he preferred to be a carpenter. And his adoptive father was a pretty well off man so he's got a fortune to his name but owns a studio instead of a house. Can you believe that?' She glanced at me.

'He's just lonely,' I muttered, 'he's got no one but acts like he doesn't care.'

'Hmm, yes. Rich and intelligent with an endless tail of girls following his every move. My heart bleeds for him.'

I sighed at her pessimism. 'No one can get sympathy from you, can they?'

She stared at me incredulously. 'Petra, the man fired you from a job you haven't finished and was rude to you, and all you can think about is how lonely he is. Does that sound normal to you?'

'I've been drowning in my own self pity for days so maybe it's time for a change of thought.' I remarked.

'Yeah, like forgetting his existence and doing something with the money you earned from it.'

'I didn't take the money.'

Silence.

'Why are we even friends?'

-X-

We had dinner at a shabby diner with contradictorily tasty food, and returned home after sunset. I locked myself in my art room again, and pulling out the portrait of Levi, I took out pastels to scribble over it and erase its existence from my life, lest someone find it and discover something about me I wasn't ready to accept yet. But once I ran a black pastel over his face, I instantly regretted it. It lined across his nose and ran over his thought-evoking eyes. I didn't have the courage to ruin it anymore than I had, all my renewed purpose to destroy it replaced with remorse.

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><p><em>Maybe I didn't fall in love with you. Maybe I fell out of love with everyone else and you were the first alluring face. Maybe that means the exact same thing.<em>

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><p><em>And you can't fight the tears that ain't coming<br>Or the moment of truth in your lies  
>When everything feels like the movies<br>Yeah, you bleed just to know you're alive_

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><p><em><strong>I wanted to put a lot more into this chapter, but I figured that if I did it would be too fast for the story, so this chapter is relatively (and unfortunately) short. Hopefully you enjoyed it though!<strong>_

_**PS: not completely edited so mistakes might be everywhere**_

_**You guys blow me away with your feedback and reviews and it fuels my passion to write and update faster!**_

_**Let me know what you think? **_

_**xx**_


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